


you can't ride in my little red wagon!

by allapplesfall



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: (but it gets corrected), (but like....they don't know it yet lmfao), Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Alternate Universe - The Parent Trap Fusion, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Misgendering, Nonbinary Charlie (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Sibling Rivalry, but theyre trying!!, they're children in the 90s their understanding of gender isnt refined
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allapplesfall/pseuds/allapplesfall
Summary: “What,” Charlie said. “You think I look like her?”Amaya frowned. “Don’t you see it?”Charlie squinted, cocking their head. “I s’pose if I looked at you a little sideways,” they allowed. “Tossed on the most prudish swimmers I’ve ever seen, and imagined having a stick up my–”(a legends parent trap au)
Relationships: Amaya Jiwe & Charlie, Amaya Jiwe & Sara Lance, Amaya Jiwe & Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi, Charlie & Astra Logue, Charlie & Mona Wu
Comments: 16
Kudos: 20





	1. make new friends

**Author's Note:**

> so i asked, who's gonna write the amaya&charlie parent trap au? and then i realized...i was. whoops. 
> 
> this is just gonna be the fun camp shenanigans part of the plot. and listen, i've been a camp counselor for multiple years, but i am THROWING camp protocol out the second story window (iykyk) and drawing from the wonderfully nutty source material in my absolute disregard for proper child supervision. i can't hope to be as funny as the parent trap (1997) because i don't have a godlike amount of hubris, but i _have_ had fun writing it
> 
> title and chapter titles are from classic camp songs
> 
> ps. if you're wondering why half the counseling staff is british...thats bc that's how american summer camps go lmao

“Girls, please stay seated!” the peppy counselor at the front called. “Bottom to bottom, back to back! We’re not quite there yet.”

Amaya leaned her head close to the window, though she didn’t press her temple to the pane itself. The jolting and bumping of the bus over dirt made the glass shudder in a way that would be painful. Instead, she carefully angled herself so she could see beyond the peeling plastic of the seat in front of her. Evergreen trees, oaks and redwoods, upholstered each side of the road. Smaller bushes collected like lint balls along their bases. Up ahead, a wooden arch straddled the road. Carved yellow letters along its crest read _Camp Walden_.

“Are we close?” asked the girl beside her. She’d looked up from her book for the first time since they left the drop-off site. 

“Yeah,” said Amaya. “I can see the bus ahead of us unloading already.”

“Sweet.” The girl dropped her head back down.

The noise level in the bus began to rise as more kids caught sight of the camp’s entrance. By the time they groaned to a stop behind the first bus, it took the counselors three _bum-bada-bum-bums_ to cut through the chatter.

“Once off the bus!” the peppy one instructed. “Grab your duffel bag and find the tree marked with the color wristband you were given during check-in. The counselor there will be in charge of your cabin. Everybody got that?”

A muted chorus of _yeahs_.

“I can’t hear you. Everybody got that?”

_Yeah!_

“Awesome! Then what do we have to say to the bus driver?”

_Thank you!_

“Sure.” A single unenthused thumbs-up floated above the gaggle of heads.

“Awesome!” the counselor said again. “Welcome to Camp Walden, kids.”

Amaya pulled her daypack off the floor in front of her and joined the crush of campers jostling in the aisle. Once off the bus, squinting in the sunlight and slightly dizzy from the smell of the forest and dust, she stood among the yelling, clamoring mass of children and tried to regain her bearings.

“Hey! No shoving!”

“Anyone forget a sock on the bus? How about a water bottle? Sock and a water bottle, going once, going twice…”

“Grab your duffels! Don’t forget to grab your bags!”

Suddenly aware of her empty hands, Amaya turned back to the bus, where counselors in dark green polos dragged luggage out of the open underbelly. She looked for dark purple canvas, to no avail.

“First time at camp, huh?”

Amaya turned. A smaller girl with dark brown hair and choppy bangs stood beside her, eyebrows raised. She held her own duffel in hand.

“Yeah,” Amaya admitted, smiling. “Is it that obvious?”

“You learn to grab your bag quick. Otherwise, the counselors throw it in the pile.”

“The pile?”

The girl pointed to a spot twenty feet away from their bus, where firefighter lines of adults converged to create a small mountain of luggage. With a sinking heart, Amaya recognized a lonely purple corner sticking out of the bottom.

“See yours?” the girl asked.

Amaya nodded.

“Okay,” she said. She glanced Amaya over, making her self-conscious of the polo her mom told her to wear to make a good impression. “Let’s go get it, then.”

She led Amaya over to the pile. Amaya reached for the black strap of her duffel, straining to yank it free from the other bags that crushed it. She was athletic—best in her P.E. class and stopper on her club soccer team—but there must have been hundreds of pounds of campers’ clothes and toiletries stacked on top. It hardly budged.

“Don’t look at me,” the girl said. “I’m more of an e-sports kid.”

As she spoke, a white girl in a sleeveless tie-dye shirt stepped up to the opposite edge of the pile. With a quick, decisive tug, she pulled out her duffel.

Amaya and her tentative-friend shared an impressed look.

“Damn,” said the tentative-friend.

“Excuse me!” Amaya called.

Tie-dye girl turned. On second look, Amaya realized she was the freckliest person that she’d ever seen—there wasn’t a freckle-free square inch on her entire face. She smiled, bright and easy, and at least there weren’t any freckles on her teeth. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind helping me with my bag?”

“Oh, sure.” The girl walked over to them, own duffel slung over her shoulder. When she reached them, she dropped it by their feet and took hold of the strap Amaya was holding. “On three?”

“Oh.” Amaya blinked. “Yes.”

“One…two… _three_!”

The two of them gave a strong heave. The bag popped free, sending them both staggering back into the first girl, who only managed to keep from falling by grabbing onto Amaya’s backpack. Regaining their balance, they looked at each other. Tie-dye girl and Amaya grinned; Amaya’s tentative-friend snickered.

“Thanks,” said Amaya.

“No problem,” said tie-dye girl. “I’m Sara.”

“Amaya.”

“Zari,” said Amaya’s tentative-friend. She held up her wrist, showing off a papery light blue wristband of the kind lifeguards give out to swim test passers at the city pool. It matched the ones on Sara and Amaya’s wrists. “And I could be wrong, but I think we’re all in the same cabin.”

“Awesome,” said Sara. “Douglas squad.”

“Douglas?” asked Amaya.

“Blue’s always Douglas cabin. Red’s Sequoia, Green’s Saguaro, you know? You guys been to camp before?”

“I have,” said Zari. “My mom makes me come every year.” She affected a maternal, accented voice. “’Zari-jan, it’ll be good for you. Get off that computer of yours, breathe some real air...’”

Amaya smiled. Her mom had sounded similar when she’d handed Amaya the camp magazine, though without the computer complaint. “It’s my first time,” she admitted.

Sara nodded. “That’s cool. My sister and I used to go to Camp Deer Lake, but we’ve come here for the last few summers. She’s a CIT this year, so if you meet a really bossy one, _that’s_ her.”

Zari snorted.

“Douglas!” a British-sounding voice shouted. “Douglas Fir cabin! Light blue wristbands, over here!”

The three of them turned. A brunette counselor stood beneath a redwood tree with a rough sky-blue circle painted on its bark.

“Ready?” Zari asked.

Sara nodded, hefting her duffel back over her shoulder. She looked to Amaya expectantly.

Amaya picked up her own bag, feeling something warm sprout in her chest. Maybe camp wouldn’t be as lonely as she’d worried. “Ready,” she agreed.

-

“What are you doing?”

Charlie rolled their eyes. “Fashion design. What’s it look like?”

The girl—Mina, maybe?—stared from where she hung upside down, peering over the edge of her upper bunk. Her eyes bugged out. “You’re ripping up your camp shirts.”

“I’m _retrofitting_ my camp shirts.” They held up their first completed masterpiece—short sleeves shorn off, two inches trimmed off the bottom hem, and the maroon fabric cut into strips and braided along each side seam. “See?”

“Whoa.” Mina—no, Mina didn’t sound right, _Mona_ —gaped. “That’s _super_ cool.”

“Going pink there, mate.”

Mona pushed herself back up on top of her bed, giving her blood an opportunity to flush back out of her face. Seconds later, she clambered down to badger Charlie some more. “Aren’t you worried you’ll get in trouble?”

Charlie shrugged. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t care if I get in trouble. Nobody’s gonna tell me what to wear.”

Mona frowned, perching on the foot of Charlie’s bed. “What if they, like, send you home?”

“Then good.” They thought of Lachesis’s smug face, waving them off from behind the airport security line. “ It’s not like I asked to be here anyhow.”

“Aw, come on! Camp’s supposed to be so fun. I heard there’s a _lake_ , and an arts and crafts house, and a pottery wheel, and a high ropes course, and, and…lots of fun stuff.”

Charlie raised their hands and gave them an unenthused _hurrah_ shake.

“Give up,” said a new voice, artfully scornful. Charlie glanced to the next bunk over to see a girl with perfectly arranged ringlets and a full manicure dump her bag on the covers. “I don’t think even your cloying pep rally cheer can break through _her_ crusty exterior.”

Mona’s face fell.

“Oi,” Charlie said, immediately protective in a way they hadn’t been before. “Don’t call her ‘cloying.’ What’s your problem?”

The girl arched her eyebrow. “It’s just that you seem to have decided already about the kind of summer you’re going to have.”

“And you wanna be here, do you?”

The girl considered, sitting down on her bed. “No, not really.” She looked to Mona. “So don’t waste your energy on me, either.”

Mona looked from one of them to the other. “I feel like you guys could give it a chance.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Charlie’s scissors glided through their second shirt.

“Mm,” the new girl agreed. She looked pointedly at Charlie’s mess of fabric. “And doing a wonderful job of following the rules already.”

Charlie forced up two fingers in an _up-yours_ motion. Americans didn’t know what that meant, right?

The new girl’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

Whoops.

“Peace on Earth,” Charlie attempted.

“Yeah, no. My mum–” and Charlie heard it, the _u_ in _mum_ , before the girl faltered. She looked away.

An awkward pause stretched.

“So…” said Mona. “I’m Mona. It’s nice to meet you?”

Charlie looked at her, incredulous. In what bloody way was it nice to meet this girl?

Mona ignored her. She offered a small, genuine smile in the other girl’s direction.

After a moment, the girl gave in. “I’m Astra,” she said.

Mona looked at Charlie.

“Charlie,” they begrudged.

“Where are you guys from?”

“Hell,” Astra said drily, which surprised an amused huff out of Charlie.

“London,” they said. “So, same thing, really.”

Astra shot them a pleased look, before remembering she was supposed to be disdainful and looking back to Mona.

Huh.

“I’m from D.C.,” Mona said. “I’ve never been to camp before. Have you guys?”

Neither of them had.

"How old are you?”

“Eleven,” they both said simultaneously.

Astra glowered.

Charlie grinned. Riling Astra up? Very easy, actually, and pretty fun.

“Oh,” said Mona. “I’m ten.”

“That’s alright,” said Charlie. They liked Mona more, especially now that it was becoming clear she had some backbone in her and she wasn’t a snitch. “Not your fault.”

A smile tiptoed back onto Mona’s face. “Thanks.”

“So what _are_ you doing to that ugly tee?” asked Astra.

Charlie held up their current experiment—a shirt with a row of small lightning cutouts ringing below the collar.

Astra looked mildly impressed.

“ _Cool_.” Mona reached out to put her finger through one of the bolts. “If you don’t get in super big trouble, would you show me how to do mine?”

“Sure,” said Charlie. “Sequoia cabin can be the cabin of wicked threads.”

“Because being the cabin of obnoxiously tall trees wasn’t enough.”

Charlie grinned at Astra, whose long legs easily reached the floor. “You’d know.”

Astra rolled her eyes, but her lips crooked upwards.

“I heard we have free time after lunch,” Mona said. “Would you guys want to explore with me?”

“Explore what, exactly?” Astra asked.

“I don’t know. Everything?”

Charlie tilted their head. “Beats sitting in this stack of logs, I guess.”

Astra sighed. Unzipping her bag, she drawled, “Why not?”


	2. she sailed across (she sailed across) the seven seas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaya participates in the inter-cabin lake race, and sees an unexpectedly familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back!! thank you freckles for ur support and encouragement to get this chapter up <3
> 
> and before you ask—yes, vegetable-offs are a real thing. yes, i've participated in them. yes, i've made small children participate in them. yes, i always crack up. thank u for coming to my ted talk.
> 
> tw for misgendering!!! take care of yourselves
> 
> title from the iconic "the princess pat"

“Hey,” said Sara.

Amaya looked up from where she and Zari were practicing whittling. Mid-afternoon sun filtered through the trees at the edge of the clearing, lighting the scattered ‘survival zone activities’ in warm yellow slashes. Sara stood barely outside their safety circles, face even frecklier, somehow, than it had been two weeks ago. She had a glint in her eye that Amaya was beginning to associate with a _here we go_ feeling. She held her hands behind her back.

“Hey,” Amaya said, giving her a smile.

“Sup,” said Zari.

Sara grinned. “I made you guys something.”

Zari nodded. “I made you something, too.” She held up a mangled piece of wood, her discarded first whittling attempt. “It’s an abstract representation of my soul after you made me climb that tree.”

Sara narrowed her eyes. “Come on. It wasn’t _that_ tall.”

Amaya smiled. “Sara, it was pretty tall.”

“Fine. It was kind of tall!” Sara shook her head. “Can I show you what I made you now?”

Amaya folded her knife shut and Zari followed suit. She patted the log next to her. “Of course you can show us.”

Sara sat, holding out a fist to each of them. “Close your eyes and open your hands.”

“I swear,” said Zari, brown eyes wary. “If you hand us worms, we’re kicking you out of the cabin.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Amaya. “We’ll tell Gideon on her, and _she’ll_ kick her out of the cabin.”

“For the record,” said Sara, “I’m doing something nice for you guys, and I’m getting slandered.”

Amaya leveled her an amused look. Sara, she and Zari had learned quickly, was known to the counselors as something of an exasperating rulebreaker and prankster. As much as Amaya liked her, well…. It wasn’t exactly an unearned reputation.

Sara sighed. “Alright, no worms. Pinky swear.”

Zari, whose default temperament Amaya’s mother would describe as ‘dry as the grasses of Zambesi,’ cocked her head. “I don’t see any pinkies.”

“ _Guys_.”

“Think she’ll explode if we make her wait another two minutes?” Zari asked Amaya.

“Oh, let’s give her a break.” Amaya closed her eyes, setting her knife down beside her, and cupped her hands in front of her. She heard Zari shift to do the same.

After a moment, sweaty warm fingers dipped something thin and stringlike into her palms. She opened her eyes to find a handmade friendship bracelet. Stripes of dark green, dark blue, and gold wove together to form an arrow-like chevron pattern nearly an inch wide.

“Sara,” she said. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Zari, gently running her thumb along the bands of white, red, and black that made up hers. “Thanks. Seriously.”

Sara flushed, grinding one of her heels into the dust. “It’s nothing. Don’t get mushy.”

“No mush,” Zari deadpanned. “Help me tie it on.”

By the time the two bracelets were firmly attached to their limbs, Gideon had called, “I say Douglas, you say Fir! Douglas!”

The three of them, along with the rest of their cabin in the clearing, chorused, “Fir!”

“Douglas!”

“Fir!”

“Alright, Douglas campers! It’s time for all of you to return your whittling supplies to the box by me and make a buddy-line behind Helen, in which case we can head back to our cabin and prepare for some time in the lake. But wait—before you get in line, please also pick up three pieces of trash and show them to me.”

“Ugh,” Zari groaned.

After picking up a twist-tie, a hair band, and a piece of friendship bracelet string, Amaya joined Zari in the procession back to their cabin. Most of the girls bubbled and chattered the whole walk back: the lake had been undergoing some official testing to make sure it was alright for swimming, and they hadn’t had a chance to go in yet.

“Is the lake cold?” she asked.

“Yep,” Zari said. “It’s hot today, though, so hopefully it won’t suck.”

“Always the optimist,” Amaya teased.

Zari glanced away, cheeks darkening. “Yeah, yeah.”

Back at the cabin, Amaya pulled on her water shoes (“Water shoes?” her mother had asked. “You need special shoes to swim? And they do not provide them? Pff.”) and grabbed her towel and bathing suit from where she’d left them to dry on the back porch after their most recent shower. About to head back inside to change, she spotted Sara sitting alone on the railing.

“Hey,” she said. “Aren’t you going to change?”

Sara shook her head. “I don’t swim.”

“Oh,” said Amaya. “I understand. My mom doesn’t know how to swim either.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sara, looking down at her lap.

Amaya gave her a long look, trying to decide if more comfort was the way to go.

“If you’d like to get to the lake on time,” Gideon could be heard saying, “I’d advise you to pick up the pace.”

Amaya settled for squeezing Sara’s shoulder and heading in to change. She had to hurry if she wanted to break out the conditioner her mom had insisted she bring in bulk.

“Alright,” said Gideon. She stood before them at the lakefront, her usual green polo replaced by a one piece and skirt. “Tomorrow will be your day for free swim. Today is the first round of the inter-cabin lake race.”

Amaya turned to Zari. “Lake race?”

“Three rounds throughout the summer,” Zari whispered. “We race everybody in our cabin first, then the two winners go into a tournament with all the other cabins’ winners.”

Amaya nodded, anticipation building in her chest. She wasn’t competitive, per se, but. Well. She was a bit competitive.

“The inter-cabin lake race happens three times during the camp session,” Gideon continued, redundantly now for Amaya. “The course follows the buoys,” she pronounced _buoys_ like Amaya would say _boys_ , and it took her a moment to realize she meant the red floats strung out on the water in a wide lane, “directly across the lake and back. I recommend you keep to the right on the way there and the left on the way back, unless you truly desire to meet your friends face-to-face.”

“Nora Darhk,” Zari muttered. “My second summer here.”

Amaya nudged her to be quiet.

“You’ll have to compete first among yourselves as a cabin, and then our champions will go on to represent us in a race against another cabin. The winners of _that_ race will go on the next bracket of the competition. Is that clear?”

The girls nodded.

“Excellent. Everyone please wait here for Counselor Rip to distribute properly sized PFDs to those of you whose parents indicated they would like you to pass a swim test first. If you don’t want to swim, you can stay by him during the race.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe, if you’re very lucky, you’ll even get him to smile.”

A lanky white guy with scruffy stubble slouched over, blue lifejackets piled in his arms. He helped about half the kids into them, cinching the yellow straps tight with abrupt tugs. When he put one on Sara, even though her dry clothes made it very clear she had no plans to swim, Zari raised her eyebrows. Sara looked down.

“We can’t race in these,” another of the lifejacket girls complained.

“You’ll have two more opportunities after the swim test,” Gideon assured. “Alright, Sequoia cabins is ahead of us in the queue. Does anyone have a camp song they’d like to sing?”

After an earsplitting rendition of _Little Red Wagon_ —all verses, including airplane, limo, and dragon—and a chiller performance of _I’m Going Crazy_ , which Zari said she related to deeply, the counselor on lifeguard duty called their cabin to the dock. Amaya glanced to where Sara stood. She’d stayed fifteen feet back with Counselor Rip and a few others, her face even paler than usual.

“What’s her deal?” Zari asked.

“I don’t think she can swim.”

“Oh. Are you a fast swimmer?” She eyed her critically. “I feel like you’re a fast swimmer.”

Amaya shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Gideon walked down the line, arranging them into an evenly spaced row along the horizontal arm of the dock. The sun-soaked wood warmed Amaya’s toes through the rubbery soles of her shoes. Light glittered off the dark water.

“On my whistle,” said the lifeguard counselor. Amaya adjusted her stance. “Ready, set…” A high-pitched squeal finished her countdown.

Amaya threw herself forward into a dive, hitting the lake with a jarring smash of bubbles. _Cold_ , her body screamed, _very_ _cold!_ She didn’t give herself time to process the shock, just winched her right arm up into the air and forced a strong leading stroke as her feet began to kick. Water dragged at her arms and legs, thicker than the chlorinated stuff at the community pool. It didn’t stop her, though. Last summer, she’d held a title as a reigning champ among the kids on her block, who joked she must be part fish. And half of _them_ hadn’t been swaddled in a vest of sun-bleached foam. She had a bigger edge now.

With her strong, practiced freestyle, she pushed to the front of the thrashing school of campers. Her eyes burned. Vaguely mineral-y drops water flecked her tongue with each tilted-head breath. Before long, she reached the far shore of the lake, hand smacking into the string of buoys strung perpendicularly across the channel as a finish line. Unable to flip turn, she awkwardly spun around, shoes slipping in the sludgy lake shallows. She paddled to the far side of the line, newly on her right. She had no intention of repeating any Zari and Nora Darhk debacles.

Then she set off again. One girl had beaten her on the way down, but what she had in speed she lacked in stamina, and her form suffered for it. Amaya closed the distance between them more with each stroke. Halfway down, she overtook her completely.

Only an open stretch separated her from the dock. Amaya felt the adrenaline surge through her, her arms lengthening as she sliced through the water.

“Yeah, Amaya!” she heard someone holler. “You got this!”

Amaya smiled internally. She _did_ got this. She was a dolphin, a shark, a porpoise; she was an eleven-year-old girl about to win this race.

Her fingers slapped the warm wood.

Someone whooped.

She propped her arms on the dock, body dangling in the water, and took deep breaths as she grinned.

The lifeguard counselor came over. “Good job,” she congratulated. “Can you climb up? Everybody else is on their way.”

With a nod, Amaya pulled herself up, goosebumps raising along her wet skin as it met the slight breeze. At the lifeguard’s direction, she scooted back to the other side of the dock to watch the rest of the race.

The girl who Amaya had overtaken—Courtney, she recognized now—had reached the dock while she was pulling herself out. She gave Amaya a big smile, droplets of water still caught in her blonde eyelashes. Amaya smiled back: the two of them would be moving on to the next round.

A few more girls hit the dock after, some bummed by their loss and some too busy gasping. Amaya looked for Zari but didn’t see her. She squinted out into the lake.

She spotted her at the absolute back, behind even the group of kids with the lifevests. She lazily paddled forward, sometimes on her front, sometimes on her back. Amaya let out a soft laugh. Zari had known she had no chance of winning, so she’d decided to enjoy her swim time for as long as she could.

Eventually, the lifeguard called, “Pick up the pace, Douglas cabin!”

Zari grudgingly freestyled the last couple yards to join the rest of them.

“Alright, everyone,” said the lifeguard. “Our two winners stay here. The rest of you can cheer them on from the sidelines.”

As she walked back over to Sara and the others, Zari held out her fist to Amaya. “Told you you seemed like a fast swimmer.”

Smiling, Amaya snapped her fingers and bumped the pinky sides of their fists together.

“Cool,” the lifeguard said to Amaya and Courtney. “Take a breather for a few minutes. Your counselor will let Sequoia cabin know that it’s time to bring their winners back out.”

Amaya nodded, letting herself sink down against the warm planks. For a while—though not long enough, according to her aching muscles—she listened to the sloshing and slopping of the lake and relaxed.

When the lifeguard returned, she helped each of them up and spread them four feet apart from each other on the dock. Then she led two other kids over to them and spaced them the same. Amaya couldn’t get a good look at them for the angle. With a practiced air, the lifeguard called to the shore, “Make some noise for your cabins!”

The watching campers cheered. She heard two familiar voices begin to chant, “Amaya! Amaya! Amaya!” before being chastised, at which point they switched to “Amaya! Courtney! Amaya! Courtney!”

Amaya rolled her eyes fondly.

In response, the other cabin began to chant, “Charlie! Nate! Charlie! Nate!”

“Destroy them!” called one imperious voice. “Obliterate them so badly that their future children cry for mercy.”

“You got it, A,” yelled back one of the other kids on the dock, British accent soaked in amusement.

Amaya blinked. Future children crying for mercy? That was a lot.

“Everyone ready?” asked the lifeguard. She looked to each of them.

Amaya gave a little nod, bringing her arms together.

“On your marks…get set…” The whistle shrieked.

Once again, Amaya dove into the water, prepared for the shock of cold. Courtney, determined to pace herself better this time, stuck to Amaya’s right like a particularly tenacious burr. She couldn’t shake her until nearly three-quarters of the way down.

On the opposite bank, she made a more graceful turn, intentionally cutting diagonal at the last moment and spinning a neat 180. With a powerful lunge, she redoubled her efforts in the other direction. Her limbs and lungs burned.

She must’ve passed the short-haired kid from Sequoia already: ahead of her, she only saw one pair of kicking feet. From the back, the girl’s legs looked like Amaya’s cousin Mari’s.

 _That’s all this is,_ she told herself. _Racing Mari in the pool_. _Has she ever beaten you? No. Don’t let this be the first time._

Drawing her arms forward in powerful, solid strokes, she began gaining.

For a moment, she doubted it would be enough. Then the girl glanced back at her—rookie mistake—and Amaya took advantage of the hesitation to pull up beside her, matching her stroke for stroke. They stayed like that for the last thirty feet, neither ceding or faltering. If one of them picked up the pace, the other fought to match it.

They hit the dock at the exact same time.

Gasping, Amaya surfaced. Hooking one arm well onto the dock, she took a moment to breathe. Water blurred her vision. She had to blink hard to clear it. Her body buzzed with exhaustion and, as she sagged into the parts of the water untouched by sunlight, cold.

“Wow,” the lifeguard was saying. “Incredible race, you two.” She looked to Amaya. “Charlie, was it?” Her gaze flicked to Amaya’s left. “And Amaya?”

“I’m Charlie,” corrected the other girl, just as Amaya said, “I’m Amaya.”

The lifeguard nodded apologetically. “You two must get that a lot.”

Amaya frowned. Sure, she’d been told enough by saccharine-voiced parents of kids in her class that she looked _just like_ this or that other Black girl, but it still seemed like a weird thing to say.

She nearly glanced towards Charlie, to see what she made of it, when Courtney and then the brown-haired kid reached them. Their wakes washed water up to the nape of Amaya’s neck, sending shivers down her back.

“Good job, guys,” said the lifeguard. “Now, everybody out before your lips turn blue.”

Courtney didn’t need to be told twice. She hauled herself up and over with a speed surprising given her continued panting. Amaya followed her, resettling on the dock and shifting to a spot of dry, warm wood.

“Who won?” Courtney asked her, eyes wide.

Amaya looked over at where the Sequoia kids had pulled themselves out of the water. “Well–”

She broke off.

A few feet away, dripping enough to create her own personal puddle, sat the kid who could only be Charlie. At first, Amaya couldn’t see more than the back of her head—dark cornrows, glittering in the sun, slightly fuzzy at the edges after weeks in the woods. Then both she and her cabinmate turned to look at Amaya, and the joking grin dropped off Charlie’s face.

“Whoa,” Charlie’s cabinmate murmured.

Amaya and Charlie stared at each other. If Amaya didn’t know better, she’d have thought someone had placed a mirror where Charlie’s head was supposed to be. They shared the same eyes, same nose, same mouth. Only around the edges of their face—hairstyle and ear piercings—could she start to see differences.

“She looks _just_ like you,” Courtney marveled. “You sure you don’t have a sister?”

Charlie’s eyes flicked to Courtney. Her expression soured.

Amaya, who definitely didn’t have a sister, shook her head. “I….”

“What,” Charlie said. “You think I look like her?”

Amaya frowned. “Don’t you see it?”

Charlie squinted, cocking her head. “I s’pose if I looked at you a little sideways,” she allowed. “Tossed on the most prudish swimmers I’ve ever seen, and imagined having a stick up my–”

“Girls!” one of the counselors on the shore called. “Come over here, we need to let the next cabin onto the dock!”

Charlie’s expression darkened even more, and she shared an indecipherable look with her friend. They pushed themselves up and started to make their way back.

Amaya stood and helped Courtney to her feet, still unbalanced by Charlie’s rudeness. What had she ever done to her?

Zari and Sara waited for her on the shoreline. They gave her proud hugs and clapped her on the back, ignoring the way her wet rashguard left damp patches on their clothes. Amaya forced a smile.

The counselors for both cabins convened. After a small discussion, Gideon announced, “Due to the extenuating circumstances of Charlie and Amaya’s draw, we’ll be holding an impromptu tiebreaker to determine who will go on to the next round of the race. This tie-breaker will take the form of…a vegetable-off.”

Amaya frowned. A what?

She turned to Sara and Zari. Both of them looked entirely unimpressed by the proposal.

“In a vegetable-off,” Gideon explained, “two finalists stand back to back. When ready _,_ they each take six steps forward. A counselor will call out a vegetable and an adjective, usually an emotion—happy carrot, for example.” Gideon’s mouth twisted, amused. “The competitors have the count of three until they need to turn around and give us all their best impersonation of the vegetable.”

Charlie snorted. “How bloody stupid is that?”

Her friend, a girl with ringlets that should’ve been legitimately impossible to maintain in the middle of the woods, smirked.

Amaya stiffened. Sure, it was a silly way of deciding something. It definitely wouldn’t help figure out which of them was better prepared to head on to the next round of the swim race. But the goofiness of it seemed like it might make the gathered cabins smile, and this whole lake tournament was really only a camp game, and did Charlie have to be so openly disrespectful of the counselors who were working hard to try and give them a fun summer?

“Whoa,” she heard Zari murmur. “’Maya, she looks a _lot_ like you.”

 _Thanks, Z,_ Amaya thought. _Hadn’t noticed_.

Gideon either didn’t hear Charlie’s comment or pretended not to. “Alright, Charlie, Amaya, let’s see it. Both of you come stand over here, if you please…”

Amaya walked to where Gideon stood in the middle of the two clumps of campers. Gideon gave her a conspiratorial wink, and Amaya couldn’t help but smile back. She liked Gideon.

Charlie sauntered over, arms crossed over her black and silver one-piece. At Gideon’s direction, she stood with her back to Amaya’s. The two were so close she could feel Charlie’s body heat.

“Can we get a drum roll?” asked one of the Sequoia counselors. She demonstrated by patting her flat palms against her thighs. Campers around the circle joined in.

“Six paces,” Gideon instructed.

Amaya stepped forward six times. From the crunch of sticks from behind her, she trusted Charlie did the same.

“Rock n’ roll asparagus!” a different counselor yelled out. “Three…two…one…”

Amaya hardly had time to consider it before she spun around. She stuck her cupped hands straight in the air, heels of her palms and tips of her fingers touching. She tried to furrow her eyebrows and look—angry? Was rock n’ roll angry? Her mom didn’t listen to rock n’ roll, she listened to old West African CDs.

Charlie, on the other hand, had it figured out. She held her arms up straight, like Amaya. Unlike Amaya, though, she’d remembered to bring her feet together, so the edges of her body made a line. Her fists, crossed just at the wrists, had pinkies and pointer fingers extended. She stuck out her tongue and made a wild face.

Easy giggles rang from the onlookers as they stopped drum rolling. “It’s okay, Amaya!” Sara called, before Zari not-so-subtly stomped on her foot.

Amaya made herself smile. Sportsmanship was something her soccer coach emphasized. She knew how to take a loss. And she knew this was a loss, too, even before Gideon announced it, because Charlie’s face had been really funny and hers hadn’t.

Charlie blew her a sardonic kiss and grinned.

And Jesus, it would’ve been so easy to just walk over and shake hands if Charlie weren’t so rude and cocky.

Amaya settled for giving her a very happy-for-you thumbs up. As she walked back to Sara and Zari’s sides, she sucked her teeth. _Someone needs to teach that girl a lesson_.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! more to come
> 
> pls lmk what u think <33


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